


Dreaming Sweet

by beingbaz



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Love, M/M, Moodiness, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 14:55:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3213251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beingbaz/pseuds/beingbaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A history of distrusting mages, along with nightmares of blood magic, make it hard for Fenris to trust any mage, even his lover, Hawke. The best of people are strained by the distrust of those they love. What will this do to Hawke and Fenris?</p><p>Written after DA: Inquisition, so, spoilers for anything I can think of. And probably a couple I forgot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreaming Sweet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosasynstylae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosasynstylae/gifts).



> Standard Disclaimer: All copyrights belong to their respective owners. I make no money from this, and merely wrote it for fun. Written for adults only. Blatant plagiarism is discouraged, as I worked rather hard on this.
> 
> No beta. All mistakes my own.

Part One

Your voice is in my head. This is unfortunate, as I need my attention to be on taking down my mark, and not on things that should never have been in the first place.

“Am I the monsters of your nightmares, Fenris?” you asked after I woke in the night, shivering, shoving you away from me even as you offered comfort. The fire in the grate offered up enough light to see, and I was grateful that it was there to beat back the shadows.

Shuddering, I said, “No. It's just... There was a mage. Blood magic.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Just don't... don't touch me right now. I can't handle it.”

“Okay. Do you want me to leave?”

I didn't say anything, whatever words I might have had caught in my throat. I wanted your arms around me with a desperation I'd never admit, and I wanted you somewhere far from me and everything in me that was dark and wrong and still somehow feared you.

You sighed, easing the covers back. “I understand,” you said, swinging your legs off of the bed. “I'll go.”

It was in me to ask you to stay, but I couldn't get the words out. I watched as you pulled on pants, tugged a loose shirt over your head, buckled on a belt. You sat to pull on your boots, and all I could do was watch you. I wanted you with a need as fierce as flames licking up a dry tree, and wanted you gone as harshly as blinding snow.

Boots on, you took one last look at me, and tried a smile that seemed as much mockery at our little play as to comfort.

“I'll be... I'll be downstairs if you need me.”

I thought of all the people staying at the inn. The strangers and their unknown wants, needs, and desires. Their very strangeness. “I'll be fine, Hawke. I don't need anything.”

“Or anyone?” you mused, a hint of bitterness tinting your voice. You reached out a hand as though you were going to stroke your fingers over my arm, and I jerked back from even the whisper of a touch. Your hand settled back in your lap, and you shook your head with sorrow on your features. “Fenris, I'm a mage. I've never tried to hide it, and it's not something that I'm going to change. It's as much a part of me as the color of my eyes. And, the simple fact of it is, that keeps you from trusting me. That's all there is to it.”

I stared at you, the stiff set of my jaw keeping me from denying your words.

“I know you don't mean to,” you said into my silence. “It isn't in you to hurt the people who love you. But you keep waiting for me to hurt you. To betray you. You keep watching in me for a monster, and I can't keep waiting for the day I prove you right.”

“Hawke,” I started to say, but you weren't in a mood to let me interrupt.

“No, don't. Don't say anything now. I can't ask you to take back your past. Awful things happened to you, and there was nothing you could do. Those things imprinted themselves on you as much as the markings in your skin. I wish I could say that I could keep waiting for you to trust me, but... I'm sorry, Fenris. I can't do this anymore.”

You stood, looking down at me where I sat on the bed, my hands deliberately open and appearing gentle in my lap, my face carefully blank to let you see nothing.

“I guess I'm leaving then. Not just because of this, although it feels like this was coming for a long time. I've gotten word that the Inquisition needs me. I was going to tell you tomorrow, and ask you to come with me, but I can see that that wouldn't be wise. I'll back when I can, and if anything happens to me...” You cleared your throat, glancing at the wall and then back to my face. “Anyway, I...”

“Take care of yourself,” I had said, brusquely. It hurt to look at you. It hurts to think of you now.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice hushed. You turned away from me, and I didn't know what was on your face. “Will you... will you be here, when I get back?”

“I can't say,” I replied. Did you want me here? All I wanted was to be alone. “You know I'd have given everything to you, right, Hawke?”

“I don't doubt that you'd give your life if it came to it. There's nothing about you that isn't brave, not when it comes to your body. But sometimes it's easier to give your life than your heart.”

I didn't have the words in me to make you stay. I don't know where or if you slept again at all during that long night, but I know it wasn't in our bed, and when the dawn came, you took what you needed, and you left. I haven't seen you since.

There are voices creeping closer to my hiding place, and I know now is the time to block you out of my mind, and move. The Tevinter slavers rarely see me coming, and tonight will be no different.

Part Two

There's a mouth on my dick. I look down at the top of her head, taking in the long blonde hair put up stylishly and pinned away from her face. Ela? I'm pretty sure her name is Ela. She's been working this area as long as I've been here, and, despite her usual going rates, she seems to have taken a liking to me on a personal level. I find I can't focus on her, though, no matter how good she is. I'm miles away with my hand in your hair while you're on your knees and I can feel need burning in my throat.

I'm not normally someone who's big on touch. That's something you usually understood, that there would be times where I wasn't comfortable in my own skin and couldn't handle the idea of anyone's flesh pressing into mine.

The woman, though, she's convenient. I haven't actually come since the night of our fight, the night you walked out on me and back into the world. I want to come, want to give in to that release, want to shoot oceans into the back of her throat, but it's really your mouth I'm pretending is on me, your body that flashes into my mind with skin that begs to be touched despite the scars, and muscles that shift under my hand. I wonder, briefly, just how long it will be you that I'm seeking in my mind, day or night.

I can feel her teeth scraping slightly down my shaft, and my hands fist in the coverlet, a grunt escaping my lips. Despite her skill, despite my want, I can tell it's not going to happen. I can't give in. I can't let go. She's not you.

Ela eases back onto her heels, looking up at me, her hands on my thighs. “Not doing it for you, baby?”

I grimace, looking away. “Sorry. I need to be alone.”

“Don't worry about it. It's all right. There'll be another time, I'm sure.” She stands, shifting her dress to recover her breasts, and her skirt to settle back down to her ankles. She smiles at me, all flirtation, and I will her to leave with my mind. “You ever want to try again, baby, you just let me know.” She winks, gives me what she probably thinks of as a naughty grin, and leaves me to myself.

It's hard not to be disgusted at my own actions. I'm not above using people to get what I want, however, I try to be there, in that moment, when I want someone who wants me. And I never really wanted her, just the release that she could give me. I close the opening to my breeches, and set my face in my hands. Why are you haunting me? Why can't I let you go?

Part Three

I'm traveling when I hear it. You went into the Fade. You went in and faced demons, and stood strong with the Inquisitor, ready to give your life for the cause.

And that's the most I've heard.

They don't say if you got out. The Inquisitor did, that's known. But not of you. Word of you stops just there, and now I'm dreaming of you calling out my name and falling into the darkness, your hand slipping from my grip, waking just on the edge of a scream. It's been weeks since Tevinter, since Minrathous and the slavers. Leaving there was easy, washing my hands of the blood that I've spilled, walking away from the few contacts I made and will not mourn.

The inn where I last saw you appears unchanged. Our room is much the same, the same bed, same nightstand, but there's a new chair by the fireplace that I've taken to sitting in as the nights pass and I wonder just what I'm doing with myself.

I've sent out messages. Missives and inquiries, wondering just what happened to you, where you are, and what you're doing. Varric was the first to whom I sent word, the first of whom I asked for information of you from. Had he seen you lately? Did you make it out of the Fade, or did you lose your life while I was away trying to prove that I didn't need you?

Word from Varric arrives just as I've begun to lose hope. You're alive. You've left the Inquisition. The dwarf gave your last known location, but he knows no more than that, although he has a few petty insults to sling my way in such a manner as he knows might make me laugh. It's so odd, I think, to have those one can consider friends.

So, where are you? What purpose have you now?

And, most importantly, what am I going to do once I find out?

I decide to settle into the chair to think, and end up remembering a bit of my past instead.

I have this memory. It's short, and it's a little vague, but I'm small, maybe six or seven years old, and there's this cat. He's also small, so, it's more likely he was a kitten, this gray ball of fluff, and I'm not even sure if he was mine. I think I'm sitting in a library as I remember that there were books all around, and the kitten was kneading my lap with his tiny, sharp little claws that mean no real harm. I was thrilled that he'd started purring when I ran my fingers over his back.

“Leto!” my sister hissed at me as she came into the room. “Leave the cat be. We're wanted in the kitchens, and you know how Cook is. Come on!”

The name Leto is old, and it isn't mine anymore.

“Just a second, Sister. I think he likes me.”

She grabbed at my arm, yanking, and the kitten fled. “Do you want a beating? It's just a cat. Don't be stupid. Come on!”

I'm shaken from my memory by a sound at the door. As the latch gives, I find the fireplace poker in my hand, huddled next to the chair and ready to strike if the need comes. I don't know who would warrant a visit so late at night, but I doubt it's anyone good.

The door opens wide, and you step into the dimly lit room. I can feel my breath catch in my chest. You're gorgeous, and it takes all I have in me not to fling myself across the space. I must make some sound, however, as your eyes cut to mine and you go still.

“I'm sorry,” you say, backing up a step. You're not quite in the hall, but you will be if I don't stop you.

“No, wait,” I say as I leave my crouch, dropping the poker. There's a bag in your hand, clearly your worldly possessions, and your clothes look travel-worn. You appear tired.

“I didn't know anyone was in here,” you utter quietly. “The innkeeper only told me that my that my usual room was where I left it. So here I am.”

I nod, looking everywhere but at you. I clear my throat and say, “You might as well come in then. I hear you've been very busy. Here, it's warmer by the fire. Take the seat. Tell me of your travels.”

You come in again, and set your bag down once the door is closed. You don't sit, however, and just look at me with eyes I can't seem to read. I want to touch you. I want to reach out a hand and touch you, just to see if you are real, or a figment of my tortuous imagination.

When you don't seem inclined to say anything, merely standing and watching me, I ask, “Is it true you went into the Fade? And nearly didn't make it out again?”

You shrug one shoulder, committing to nothing, and say, “The Inquisitor and I ended up in the Fade with several others. We fought our way through, and out, but we lost a man to do it.”

“A man?”

“A grey warden who felt the duty to stay and atone for the sins of their people.”

I seat myself on the edge of the bed, and, after watching me a moment, you do the same so as not to tower over me. “What made him stay?”

“A nightmare demon that needed distraction if any of us were to survive. I would have done so myself, offered to do so, but the Inquisitor chose, and it was not to be.”

There's a rage building in me, shoving itself into my chest and making my belly boil with fury. “Did you think of nothing when you offered, Hawke? No one? Did you even care of those who would mourn you should you have died?”

You frown slightly, and then say in a moderate tone, “Doing what's right, what's necessary, occasionally leaves others behind. Although some may have mourned, I would have gone in the service of a greater good.”

“Damn the greater good!” I reach out abruptly and grip both of your shoulders in my hands, as though trying to leave my imprint permanently in your flesh. “Did you give a care about me, Hawke? Did you think of me at all when you considered tossing your life away?”

Your eyes are glittering with anger as you look at me, yet you make no motion to remove my hands. “I thought of you often, Fenris, when I allowed myself to think at all. That does not stop me from doing my duty, however. That doesn't negate what's right.”

I can't help myself. I shake you roughly, and then shove you back, my body over yours, my face so close to yours that I can feel your breath. I'm near to shouting and have decided that my tone doesn't much matter. “I don't care about what's right when it comes to you. You're what matters, don't you understand?”

You blink slowly, as though coming to a realization. “Fenris, what are you saying?”

I can't take it anymore. You've been gone so long, it's too much, and my blood is rushing through my veins with a pulsing ferocity. I need you, more than I've ever needed anyone in my life. Any thing.

“Damn you, Hawke,” I grit out, and crush your mouth with mine. You don't shove me away as I expect, instead your one of your arms comes banding about my back, holding me to you, and the fingers of your other hand go digging into my hair, gripping. Your touch makes me all too aware, as most touching does, just on the edge of pain, but I welcome it this time. I want it, I want you, and nothing is going to keep me from feeling every bit of you against me.

Our clothes are torn off and tangled on the floor, my body moving over yours, inside of yours, your hands constantly moving over my skin. Your face is flushed with pleasure, and I set my teeth at your neck, your shoulder, then back to your mouth just to nip at that bottom lip, and by the time I come inside you, I ache as though I'm being reborn. Reforged. Remade into worshiper at your body's altar.

“Never leave me again,” I whisper, after, holding you tightly to me, your heartbeat thundering against my ear. “I don't look at you and see a monster. I see you. My lover. My savior. My friend. Please.”

You press a gentle kiss to my temple, and I feel your breath hitch. “It won't always be easy, you know. I'm terrible company. Trouble's always around the corner. I'm a bad bet.”

“I don't care. You're mine,” I say simply, looking into your eyes. “I love you, and I'm not letting you go again.”

One corner of your lips quirks upwards in a smile. “Mean it?” you ask, your voice giving away just how tired you are.

“I don't say what I don't mean.”

You chuckle, and briefly squeeze me tighter before relaxing. “Pull the blanket up. Let's sleep. We can talk more in the morning.”

I hide my disappointment as I tug at the covers. I'd wanted the words back from you more strongly than I'd realized. Tucking them around us, I set my head back against you, and try to focus on your heartbeat in order to lull me into sleep.

“Fenris?” you say once I'm nearly there.

“Yes, Hawke?” I murmur, fighting the edge of sleep.

“I love you, too, you know. Good night.”

I smile, my first true smile in quite some time. “Good night, love. Sweet dreams.”

With your arms around me, I slide under, and dream of the future I hope we'll have.

End.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: Hawke is deliberately ungendered and minimally described so that you, the reader/gamer, can imagine any Hawke you wish.
> 
> //////////////
> 
> Sam inspired this, even though she didn't mean to. I just kind of wanted to torment Fenris? But, you know, I like my happy endings.
> 
> The subtitle as I wrote this was:  
> (because Sam is a terrible person... and so am I)
> 
> Also, the explicit rating is pretty much solely for the first line of part two. Yeah.
> 
> I regret nothing. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
